The Scent of Vanilla
by MDDC26
Summary: The story of Jack and Sam's affair.


**AN: **_This turned out nothing like I thought it would. R&R would be much appreciated_

The first time it happened, she convinced herself it was nothing more than the product of an over active imagination, seeing things that weren't really there.

The second time it happened, she told herself he didn't know what he was doing. Maybe she read too much into it.

The third time he brushed his hand against hers, it lingered a fraction of a second too long for her to convince herself it was anything other than intentional.

They had been working together for over a year now, and although she found herself idly daydreaming about what it would be like to be with him, to be more than just colleagues, she reminded herself that he was her boss. She reminded herself that he was married and had two kids.

It didn't stop his gaze from lingering on her for far too long, nor from enjoying the easy camaraderie that had sprung up between them from her first day on the job. It didn't stop her from admiring his passion, easy leadership, and dare she admit it, his fine broad shoulders, and dark messy hair.

It would have been as far as it went. In fact, it should have been as far as it went, but everyone knows, that's not where their story ended.

The first time they fell into bed, she lost herself in the intensity of his gaze and the feel of his mouth against her velvet skin.

He lost himself in her.

For the time he spent in her apartment, nothing mattered more than the sparkling smile that would alight her face when she looked at him. His wife and children were faceless victims of their mutual attraction.

He wasn't happy in his marriage, she had nobody else.

Some would lay the blame squarely upon his shoulders; others would tell you it takes two. He was her boss, older than her by some years. She was the junior agent, easily swayed it would seem and sleeping her way to the top.

But it made sense to them.

Vivian was the first to notice a difference, watching her colleagues closely. She was the first to put the pieces of the puzzle together and the first crack to appear in their affair. She cornered Jack in his office one afternoon and demanded to know what the hell he was thinking.

But he just looked past her, into the bullpen with a strained smile and a sinking heart. She was out there, seated on the corner of Danny's desk and laughing. She caught his eye from across the office and settled her face into a wide smile.

That night, as they sat in her bed, doing crossword puzzles and listening to the rain fall, she asked him what they were doing. He had no response. But he held her all the more fiercely, kissed her with just as much heat, desperate to keep hold of their cocoon, for just a little while longer.

The final shattering moment came when she met Maria, distraught, angry Maria who stormed into the office with a sheath of papers in her hands, and several condemning photos. The last crack appeared the moment she left a stinging red hand print across Jack's cheek.

The slow appraisal, up and down of Sam as she left.

He went to his own bed that night, and the night after. Or, more correctly, to his own couch. Then it came.

The end.

He had to do the best thing for his family. She understood. He left her apartment for the final time, taking with him the lingering gazes and the familiar comfort that was his unique scent of coffee, cologne and just the faintest hint of old books.

She sat in her empty apartment that evening. Clutching the familiar mug in both hands, sitting atop her windowsill and staring into the cold, concrete jungle that was Manhattan, and she felt the pang of loss keenly.

Across the city, he walked into their home and stopped, quietly closing the door behind him.

"Daddy, daddy!" called Hanna, racing to him from the other end of the apartment.

"Hey sweetheart," replied Jack softly, lifting her into his arms. He walked with her in his arms down the corridor. He hitched a breath at the sight of Maria, and waited for the inevitable storm. She gazed at him stonily before turning to the kids.

"Dinner,"

When he took a seat at the head of the table, his gaze rested on his kids and he knew his decision was made. The tears he shed later that night, they belonged to his heart, which longed for the scent of vanilla and honey blonde hair.


End file.
